


moderate distance

by targe



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targe/pseuds/targe
Summary: Goro Akechi makes an internet friend.





	1. june

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for literally the entire game from the get-go.
> 
> shoutout to the goroboyz for support, encouragement, and listening to me go on about this more than any sane humans should've had to? sorry i spoiled all the good bits

yukio: hawk!!!  
yukio: did you see the news about madarame?

Goro swipes the notifications away with more force than necessary. How could he not have seen the news? Discussion of the latest heist pulled off by the Phantom Thieves of Hearts is on every channel he flicks past, every social media network he checks, and he’s already equal parts exhausted and intrigued.

How did they manage to get into the Metaverse? It’s quite possible the Meta-Nav app turned up on somebody else’s phone, seeing as not even he knows how that thing operates, but why now?

The Kamoshida and Madarame calling cards sit side by side on his desk, and he picks them up. There’s a huge difference in quality, but both crimes, if they can even be called as much, were definitely carried out by the same group. If their activities had ended at Shujin, his superiors could probably have let it slide. But, so long as they continue along the trajectory of their supposed justice, he’ll probably have to get involved sooner rather than later.

Another message comes in:

yukio: i pinned the most useful article in the main channel, take a look if you haven't seen it

A solid ten minutes of searching online after the Kamoshida affair had led him to the Phantom Aficionado Website and, in turn, to the associated chatroom. The plan had been fairly simple: pose as an ordinary student and ingratiate himself there, cultivate sources, see if anyone let anything slip. In brief, play the long game and see what came of it. It was meant to have been easy, maybe even fun, but then the moderator had started talking to him and things had gotten complicated.

Yukio confuses him. They speak a few times a week, and every time it’s about something different: classes, the growth of the Phan-Site, the most recent games he’s played. All surface-level small talk, easy to keep going. But it’s a bit frustrating too, not least because Goro doesn't know what he’s supposed to say or who he’s supposed to be. In the end, he settles for being as honest as he can without giving anything away; he’ll take the role of good cop this time.

He has a meeting scheduled with one of his superiors in an hour, but he suddenly can’t bear the thought. The whole Madarame business is a Gordian knot he doesn’t know how to start cutting, even if he knew which tool to use. He could try stake out Mementos, but the entrance level is so small he’d run too high a risk of getting caught; he could dig more deeply into Shujin, but he’s a little wary about getting so directly involved this early; he could ask Igor, but the odds of the Velvet Room’s master saying anything useful instead of cryptic are miniscule.

It’s too late for him to go out alone, so he rises and begins to pace his apartment. Unusual, for him to be caught behind for once, and not in an interesting way. His biggest advantage over his opponents – over Shido in particular – is his ability to actually enter the Metaverse; how was he supposed to have predicted others who could?

He hooks a turn around the dining table he never uses, goes for a second lap. Maybe he just needs to dial it back, go through the most basic facts again. One, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts definitely exist, and they definitely operate in the Metaverse. He’s seen them: three male, one female, and some kind of catlike abomination. Judging from the Kamoshida business, most or all of them have to be Shujin students, and were quite possibly in conflict with the teacher before his resignation. Means, motive and opportunity.

Two, they definitely confronted, and defeated, Madarame’s Shadow form. The Palace’s collapse is testament to that much; he’s tried to re-enter it on multiple occasions, but to no avail.

Three, Madarame is still alive.

Goro strides into the kitchen, opens his fridge, frowns at a container of leftover Chinese. What is it that he’s missing? How do they, who’ve been in the Metaverse for maybe two months, know more about it than someone who’s explored it for two years?

He swings the fridge door shut, gets moving again. He’s agreed to do a TV appearance later this week, to be filmed in front of a live audience of high school students. He thinks they're meant to be from Shujin, so hopefully he’ll be able to gather some useful information. Maybe he’ll even get to meet a Phantom Thief for himself; when he was in Madarame’s Palace, he’d managed to track down the other group by following the feeling of other Persona users, and with any luck that skill might extend to the real world. He’d asked Igor about it afterwards, gotten some rambling answer about fate and resonance and being drawn together, so it looks like he might have to bank on that.

He calls the SIU director, makes up some excuse about being unnaturally tired from school today. The rhythm of his pacing cuts a restless counterpoint to empty words: _rest up, Akechi, we can’t afford for you to burn out._ Good thing he wasn’t scheduled to be meeting Shido instead; that man would’ve seen right through the lie.

It’s a relief when he hangs up. But Yukio’s messages from before are still on his screen, along with several new ones that he should probably deal with. He’s exhausted, and has absolutely no desire to talk to anyone else tonight, but it’s important for a detective to keep up his connections. He sighs, opens the app.

yukio: i’ve been thinking about upgrading the phan-site’s server too  
yukio: because of all the new traffic  
RedHawk: Sorry, I was out. Backreading now.  
RedHawk: How do you plan to pay for it?  
RedHawk: I thought you didn't have a job.  
yukio: hey, you remembered  
yukio: i’ll work something out, dw  
yukio: so! can we talk about madarame yet  
yukio: or would that be spoilers  
RedHawk: Spoilers for real life?  
yukio: you know what i mean

As if he isn’t privy to far more ‘spoilers’ than Yukio anyway.

RedHawk: I’ve read the articles, yes. Sounds like good riddance to bad rubbish.  
RedHawk: That said, there’s something I’ve been wondering.  
RedHawk: If the Phantom Thieves keep going, how can we trust them to keep choosing suitable targets?  
RedHawk: They might be warriors of justice, but they’re hardly infallible.  
yukio: dude, how could you even say that  
yukio: have you been watching too many akechi broadcasts or something

Okay, so he might have overplayed his hand a little. But he can still salvage this by taking a conciliatory approach.

RedHawk: Of course not. You sound very certain, that’s all.  
yukio: i guess it’s something i kinda just… know? from being at shujin when everything went down  
yukio: like, kamoshida really was that bad  
yukio: a friend of a friend was on the volleyball team, and he had these bruises all the time  
yukio: he said they were from training, but volleyballs don’t leave marks like that.  
yukio: the point is, the kind of people who took down kamoshida won’t suddenly stop being just  
RedHawk: Don’t get me wrong, I’m not doubting you. In fact, I think that kind of faith is admirable.  
RedHawk: Probably because I’ve never been able to have it myself.

Did he really just type that? Goro presses on his final message, desperately tries to delete it, but Yukio’s already working on a response.

yukio: i’m sorry, dude  
yukio: i guess i was the same right up until the p thieves showed up at shujin, though  
yukio: um.  
yukio: did you wanna talk about it or anything?

Pathetic, that he spills everything like an overripe fruit with the slightest amount of prodding – worse still, that he almost wants to keep going. But the last thing he wants from Yukio is pity, and he can already tell that’s what he’ll get. He clicks his tongue as he thinks, decides to try taking the middle ground. Giving a few vague details probably won't come back to bite him. Probably.

RedHawk: I’ll keep it brief.  
RedHawk: I grew up alone, and I’ve been on my own ever since.  
RedHawk: That makes it a little hard to believe in any real force of good.

Yukio starts typing, but stops just a few moments later. Clearly he’s been thrown for a loop, and the ugliest part of him twists in satisfaction.

yukio: don't take this the wrong way but  
yukio: do you maybe only think you're alone?  
yukio: because i thought i was, and it turned out there’d been people on my side all along  
yukio: i just hadn’t been looking at them  
RedHawk: Trust me.

That came off a little more brutal than he’d wanted, so he hastens to soften the impact.

RedHawk: It’s just hard to explain.  
RedHawk: A lot of bad things happened to me in a very short space of time.  
yukio: i know i’m repeating myself but  
yukio: i really am so, so sorry  
RedHawk: Why? Even if it was your fault, it wouldn’t change anything.  
yukio: no i mean like  
yukio: sorry to hear it  
yukio: sympathetic sorry

Great, now Yukio must think he’s a pity case too. Disgust, hot and sickening, roils in the pit of his stomach, and he writes a reply before he can think better of it.

RedHawk: I can't say I want sympathy, from you or anyone.  
RedHawk: Look, just drop the subject. It’d be best if you forgot I said anything.  
yukio: yeah right  
yukio: i’m not great at this stuff but  
yukio: isn't that how you get close to people? by sharing things about yourself?

Unfortunately, he supposes Yukio is the authority here; his experience of telling people about his past, back when he was weak enough to try, is that it usually evokes discomfort rather than endearment. But something about it still doesn’t sit right.

RedHawk: I’m not here to weigh you down with my life story.  
yukio: you weren't, though????  
yukio: i really didn't mind listening, and i think it’s really cool you trusted me enough to talk about it  
yukio: i’m happy i got to learn more about you! even if the truth isn't pretty

What must it be like, to be that naive? A hot flash of hatred burns in him, but it subsides just as fast. If he spent all his time envying people who’d been lucky enough to have a normal upbringing, he’d never get anything done.

RedHawk: I’d still be more comfortable if you tried to forget it.  
yukio: fine, i won't mention it again  
yukio: but, uh  
yukio: okay this is gonna sound really awkward but, i’m here if i can do anything?  
yukio: i know we met, like, three weeks ago, but if you're really alone  
yukio: maybe i could help you not be?  
yukio: a phantom thief always comes to the aid of those in trouble!!  
yukio: i’m no p thief, but maybe i can do my best for others too

Goro turns off his phone and, dully, registers that he’s been standing in his kitchen for the last ten minutes. He’ll have to work out how to reply to that in the morning, after he’s slept off this strange sick feeling. What chance does an ordinary teenage boy, whose name and face he doesn't even know, have of helping him? To be fair it isn’t an issue with Yukio so much as it is an issue with him; the first and only rule by which he’s been forced to live is that he has to deal with everything alone. And honesty, no matter how partial, isn't a mistake he intends to make again.

He gets changed, curls up in bed, turns off the lights. Sleep doesn't take him for a long, long time.


	2. july

Goro’s conventionally been lukewarm on the idea of God, but the fact he managed to find a seat on the Yamanote line during peak hour is tempting him to reconsider. Good timing, too; he’s been on his feet more than usual since the Kaneshiro case, both in his official capacity as well as under Shido, and his back aches a little from sleeping badly. It’s definitely a luxury he doesn't want to question.

His phone buzzes. Shido never calls him this early, and he knows for a fact that Sae Niijima needs at least two coffees to reach basic functionality, so that only leaves one option. Surreptitiously, he checks the screen: it’s Yukio, of course, and he hums in thought.

The Phantom Thieves have gained a member since Madarame’s palace, and he’s hoping Yukio might be able to throw him a bone. In truth, the other boy isn’t at all a reliable source on the movements of the Thieves; doubly so now that he’s got a name and face for their leader anyway. There's nothing to keep him from dropping Yukio, and even less tethering him to the wider Phan-Site chatroom. But the other passengers are starting to recognize him, and he’s read the book in his bag at least twice, and his commute to school is basically dead time anyway.

yukio: hey, you’re online!  
yukio: are your exams going okay?

This is not the conversation he wants to be having, but it’s a start. At least Yukio’s been good about not bringing up his embarrassing display of weakness last month.

RedHawk: Of course. Mine were last week, though.  
RedHawk: Yours?  
yukio: don’t ask  
RedHawk: Ha, all right.  
yukio: at least it’s nearly summer break  
yukio: i mean. not like i really have plans  
yukio: but you know

Goro does not know. For him, summer break just means more hours that Shido expects him to be free; so much for rest and relaxation.

RedHawk: Sure.  
yukio: hey this might sound weird but  
yukio: did you maybe wanna meet up

He should've seen this coming. Yukio’s overtures of friendship are far from subtle, and he seems the type to constantly get ahead of himself, but he still finds himself scrambling for a cover story.

RedHawk: I can't. I’m really shy.  
yukio: cmonnnn dude please  
yukio: i promise i’m not intimidating at all!  
yukio: i’m like the opposite actually  
RedHawk: I just wouldn't feel comfortable.  
yukio: is it because you think you're ugly or something  
yukio: wait, that was rude  
RedHawk: Isn’t it normal to think you’re ugly?  
yukio: i mean, fair  
yukio: but stop trying to change the subject  
yukio: can we can we can we  
RedHawk: I told you, we can't.  
yukio: you're really serious about it, huh

Goro’s midway through typing a reply when someone addresses him. “It’s you.”

He looks up. How had he managed to forget that Kurusu takes the same train line as him? They keep running into each other on the way to the Ginza platform, but it still comes as a surprise every time.

He switches off the screen, smiles. “We can't seem to escape each other lately.”

“Like you said, maybe it’s fate.”

The worst part is that it probably is. The ace detective and the phantom thief, the two guests of the Velvet Room, Goro Akechi and the boy who doesn't look at him like a curiosity. Funny how people speak of fate in positive terms, when it’s only ever interfered to kick him in the teeth.

“Do you believe in that kind of thing?”

“Destiny? Not really. It’s too romantic for me.”

_Then how did we get here?_ he wants to ask, because he knows how this is going to end even if Kurusu doesn't. They can't be friends, can't even be on the same side, not when they're on a collision course. But Kurusu’s gray eyes are inviting behind his glasses, and Goro falls into step with him as they head up the stairs.

“So,” he begins casually, “what app was that on your screen?”

This isn't the small talk he was expecting, but he has to make do. “How have you been finding the weather recently?”

“Embarrassed, Akechi?”

“Personally, summer is my least favorite time of year,” says Goro, hopping two stairs at once. “I don't deal well with the heat.”

“Was it a dating app?”

“I went to the theater the other day, and the venue had no air-conditioning. I found it difficult to focus on the show, even though it’s a modern classic, and the current run’s received incredible amounts of acclaim. _A Streetcar Named Desire_ – are you familiar?”

“That isn't a no.”

“The play’s perhaps best known for its final line. Maybe you’ve heard it before: ‘Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers’.”

“Well,” says Kurusu, “we’re not strangers, so I hope you aren't expecting me to be nice to you.”

An odd thrill runs through him. Of course, after all these encounters, they're something more. “So you _were_ listening.”

The flow of people forces them to walk right next to each other, and Kurusu’s hand brushes his bare arm. Goro ignores the goosebumps that erupt in its wake, tries not to wonder how long it’s been since someone touched him on purpose.

“You're hard to ignore with that big mouth, Detective Prince.”

“I’ve always thought my big mouth was one of my best features.”

“Careful,” Kurusu says, “or someone might take that as an invitation.”

For all the times he’s run into the other boy, they’ve never held a conversation for this long, and he finds this new display of wit delightful. Besides, that wicked grin looks good on him. “You're ridiculous.”

“You're the one who propositioned a guy you barely know.”

“I thought we weren't strangers.”

“So it was a proposition, then.”

Goro snorts despite himself. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I’m out of your league.”

Their arms knock together as they walk; is he imagining it, or does his hand linger a little this time? “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so forward to an upperclassman.”

“You shouldn’t be so forward to anybody.”

“You think I talk to everyone like this?”

“Well, maybe not. I suppose a celebrity, even one as small-time as myself, would be an impressive conquest.”

“Akechi,” says Kurusu, “I’m not talking to you because you’re famous.”

His heart skips a little, and he chides himself for being stupid. The boy is talking to him because he’s a Phantom Thief fishing for information, that’s all. Goro’s doing the same thing in the Phan-Site chatroom, in a way, cultivating Yukio as a source on the off chance he says something useful. There’s nothing special about him, not this time; any cop would do, but he’s the only one who’s both accessible and desperate enough. Is Kurusu hoping he’ll slip up? Suddenly, strangely, he feels unlike himself.

He winces a little in apology, stops mid-stride. “Ah – sorry, I think I forgot something. I have to head back and get it.”

“You're going to be late to school, you know.”

“Luckily, I’m not the one with exams.”

“I guess that’s true.” Kurusu stops, turns sharply to face him. “Hey, how do you know that?”

“There’s a Shujin student I talk to sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Just someone from my cram school.”

Thankfully, Kurusu seems to accept the lie. “I see. Anyway, I need to rush.”

“Good luck today.”

The boy raises a hand in farewell, and then he’s swept off by the mass of people. Goro waits to make sure he’s gone, then doubles back, finds a quiet corner, and slips into Mementos.

He really shouldn't be cutting class like this, especially since he misses too much school already. But he needs to reclaim the surety that Kurusu seems to steal from him every time they meet, and that entails doing the one thing he’s ever had a talent for. Loki, the most constant part of himself, surfaces briefly and rumbles in agreement.

Because his schedule is so busy, he plans his trips into the Metaverse well in advance and does his preparations in small, surreptitious pieces; a quick visit to the pharmacy after school, or to the Velvet Room on his way back from the station. But having rushed in today, his supplies are limited and his array of Personas all wrong. He makes it a few floors down before realizing he’s missing far too much elemental coverage – redundancies in fire, ice, electric and curse attacks, and not much else – which drags out every fight. On top of that, the Shadows seem agitated today, attacking more aggressively and hitting harder than usual. This high up, they don’t really pose much of a threat, but getting knocked down isn’t good for his sore muscles. So, after the third or fourth time a group of Shadows manages to get the jump on him, he decides to return to the top level.

Once he arrives, he spends a solid couple of minutes just leaning against the ticket gates and pondering his next move. Tearing through Shadows usually manages to help him forget about whatever negative feelings he’s harboring, but today it doesn’t seem like enough. There’s a restlessness boiling in him that won’t go away, frustrating in its incomprehensibility, and his Personas stir unhappily in response. In desperation he lashes out, slamming a fist into one of the gates, but it does nothing for his temper.

Goro glances up, and the blue door by the entrance catches his eye. He doesn’t avoid the Velvet Room, per se, but every time he visits he gets the impression that none of its residents like him very much. Well, whatever; he paces over and opens it, and the familiar vertigo kicks in.

He still hasn’t worked out the exact metaphysics of the place, and they'll probably always elude him. Nothing has changed in the two years he’s been coming here; the decor remains the same, nor have its denizens grown any older. But that stasis is soothing, somehow, even though it’ll probably never be comfortable.

The twin wardens barely spare him a glance as he appears, as implacable as always. One of them – Caroline or Justine, he’s never learned to tell – hands him the Compendium when asked, and he flicks through it briefly. The pages seem to ripple and change as he turns them, the Personas in his mind arranging and rearranging themselves in different combinations, until he hits a page about midway through and, inexplicably, stalls.

The Persona’s skills suit his needs – instant-death bless attacks, perfect for dealing with large groups of enemies – but that isn’t what gives him pause. The image itself is of a winged figure in purple, golden arms upraised, and the longer he gazes the more convinced he is that he needs to fuse it. Maybe it’s the way it looks like something from an old sentai show, or the fact that his other Personas finally seem to calm themselves, but it gives him a strangely nostalgic feeling.

“This one, please,” he says, chains jangling as he taps the page. “Melchizedek. From Atropos and Queen Mab.”

“Justice,” Igor says, looking up suddenly. “Fascinating.”

Even after all this time, he’s still not sure how he’s meant to interact with the master of the Velvet Room. Igor is nothing like the other adults he knows, enigmatic and unyielding, so Goro keeps his mask up more out of habit than necessity.

“What about it?”

“This Persona will gain a degree of new power.”

“You don't mean –” the cruel-looking twin bursts out. It’s the first time she’s spoken in months.

“Why?” he asks, despite himself. “What changed?”

Igor’s only answer is to wave the girls forward, leaving uncertainty burning in his throat. They take their places by the navy and gold guillotines which dominate the Velvet Room, working quickly to set them up, and begin the execution. As always, Goro doesn’t look away when the blades fall.

Melchizedek settles under his skin like it’s always been there. It feels warm, somehow, like the memory of a summer day or a lingering touch. And when the Persona whispers in his mind, its voice seems to carry a strange double resonance: _I am thou. Let us protect our justice together._

“Thank you,” he says.

“No,” says Igor, eerie grin somehow wider than usual, “thank you. You may yet prove an interesting guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i plan to upload this more or less in thirds, so expect parts 3/4 in like... a week? and 5/6/7 a week after that. in the meantime, come troll me online on [twitter](https://twitter.com/reverseapollo)


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